


Home Is Not Where The Heart Is

by ind1go_ink



Series: Fear No Dark [1]
Category: Lazer Team (2015)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Monster!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:53:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ind1go_ink/pseuds/ind1go_ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, I wish I could write more but I just lost it and eh.<br/>I still love monster boys though and will be using this to push my aesthetic/side blog for this AU: embraceyourdark.tumblr.com<br/>Because who doesn't love angst and monster boys?<br/>(BIG ups to BlackBat09 for being such a lovely sweetheart and always pushing my random ideas to their limits in terms of how god damn sad we can make them - they didn't actually write anything of this particular story but they need to be a co-author bc they're my inspiration and my spark for writing tbh)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Home Is Not Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I wish I could write more but I just lost it and eh.  
> I still love monster boys though and will be using this to push my aesthetic/side blog for this AU: embraceyourdark.tumblr.com  
> Because who doesn't love angst and monster boys?  
> (BIG ups to BlackBat09 for being such a lovely sweetheart and always pushing my random ideas to their limits in terms of how god damn sad we can make them - they didn't actually write anything of this particular story but they need to be a co-author bc they're my inspiration and my spark for writing tbh)

It’s like looking through paper thin glass, being able to hear everything perfectly, see everything perfectly, understand it all, but not being able to touch, to truly feel everything. With the helmet, Woody becomes the Woody he’s always dreamed of being - super intelligent, a hero, able to display a full range of emotions with the succinctness of a great oral compositionist. He can look back on his life before the helmet, and realise that he wouldn’t get anywhere being as dumb as he was.

But he was happy, at least. Back then.

Being trapped in a fishbowl was but a single moment in his past life, but now he’s trapped forever, constantly being translated for, constantly given boosts to speech and intelligence. All are compensations for a brain he now understands, shouldn’t have ever been able to access, not without the helmet.

It’s bittersweet.

 

He considers this notion yet again as his helmet tells him to combine the unknown variable - a scratch of DNA he’d found in the military basement, with the bubbling writhing mass of chemicals in his test tube. He does so, and the helmet reads that the colour change from clear to a deep purple indicates success.

He’s tired, though, so he leaves his miniature laboratory. It’s a haphazard set up of uneven tables and a mish mash of parts from old military equipment so it’s hardly up to standard safety protocols, but the military don’t tend to bother with Woody as much as the others, so he’s free to do as he pleases within a certain scope.

 

The helmet reminds him to shut down his DNA mixture, but he ignores it. He wants to find a willing test subject, someone who would willingly undergo an extreme physical change, just for the fuck of it. He passes by the training room as the others come out, Zach shooting him a smirk, while Hagan and Herman look dead on their feet.

 

“Zachary,” Woody states with a small smile. The perfect test subject. “Would you please accompany me to my lab? I have some things I wish to discuss with you.”

 

“Sure, Helmet-head.” Zach shrugs, following after Woody as he goes back to his lab, leaving Hagan and Herman to share knowing looks.

~

“So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, Woody?” Zach leans carelessly on one of his tables, nearly threatening to tip the creaking wooden contraption. Woody refrains from pointing out the obvious breach of safety.   
“Well, I have this new experiment I’ve been working on. And I need to test it on someone, so I figure you would be the best person to ask, seeing as we know each other relatively well.”

Zach eyes him, already considering the possibilities. “What’s it do, and is it permanent?”

The helmet tells him that he doesn’t know these variables, doesn’t know the outcome. But Woody knows he needs to test it.

So he lies.

Ethical strike number one.

“Well so far I’ve been trying to work on something that will increase the power of the power suit itself, but all I’ve been able to come up with is biological enhancements that regulate how much power output the suit can give. At the moment we are restrained by wearing separate pieces, but also by our own physical limitations. I seek to remedy that… And, no. The effects are temporary.”

“What?”

Woody sighs, tries to readjust the verbal parameters of the helmet to allow for Zach’s understanding. “Basically, the suit of power is weak because it’s split up, and because we as humans aren’t strong enough for it. So I’ve made something to fix that.”

“Oh! Sweet, give it here then!”

Woody, despite the obvious breach of ethical obligations as a scientist, feels his heart soar. He has his test subject! He hurries over to the test tube, beckons Zach over, brimming with excitement.

“Now, if you’ll just drink this, we can get on with the experiment.” 

~

Total darkness greets Woody's eyes. He shifts, feels his eyes  _ they're different  _ widen as new muscles tense and release, his hands  _ they're not hands anymore  _ clenching. He lets out a yelp as sharp claws dig into the hard flesh of his palms.

The lights go on, momentarily blinding him. When he regains his sight, the helmet  _ blasted thing  _ tells him his experiment was a success.

That he'd successfully created a new physical form for himself and Zach.

Flashes of memories come back to him. Zach, falling to the floor, screaming in pain. Woody shrieking as the muscles in Zach’s body twist and contort, becoming a singular mass of muscle before darkening to the same deep purple as the concoction in the test tube, features slowly forming across the shifting mass. Bones cracking and shifting, muscles bulging. Somehow, the lazer canon remains intact - unscathed.Teeth, wickedly sharp that scream danger pass across Woody’s inner vision. The pain jolts him out of his contemplation, but he returns, a growl lying across his tongue.

Teeth, covered in that poison, dripping purple with a rough sandpaper green tongue. Those teeth sinking into the delicate flesh of his shoulder, the poison coursing through his veins as the beast laps at the well of blood pouring from his shoulder.

He looks into all too human eyes before blackness engulfs his vision.

~

Now that the lights are on, Woody looks down, and tries to scream. His vocal chords clench around unfamiliar sounds, it comes out as a chitter, high pitched and achingly loud in the small room. The helmet translates;  _ What the fuck?! _

Indigo fur covers his naked body, thick tufts of the stuff sticking out around his protruding bones. His toes  _ not toes  _ are claws, ink black claws clenching and unclenching on each foot.

He moves his horrified gaze to where his arms are - thick claws sprout from his fingertips, the corded length of the muscles in his arms tensing as he digs them into his palms yet again.

There are bars for doors, and Woody scrambles to them blindly, claws scraping against the iron, the sensations rattling through his bones. He lets out a squeak when he hears movement beside him. A voice tells him to shut the fuck up, that it's not even four in the morning.

It's deep, rasping, struggling against vocal chords that aren't used to the human language - but it's familiar.

Woody strains, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tries to get the words out.

“You.. ah, are Zach?”  His speech is malformed, cut with coughing and growls that leave him exhausted.

“No shit, genius.” A growl echoes through the room, shaking Woody to his core. His eyes dart around the room, waiting for a sign of danger.

“Where are you?” He stares through the bars, the darkness beyond his room  _ no, a cell  _ fading until he can make out the cell opposite his. A muzzle appears first, lips curled back into a sneer that reveal inhumanely sharp teeth, tinted purple. Eyes meet his, and they're shockingly hazel brown, human. But the beast in front of him is a wolf. At least for the most part. He still has an achingly human form, bones lengthened, protruding at unnatural angles.

“Zach?” Woody whispers. “You're… not you.”

The maw moves, slightly disjointed from the speech emanating from Zach’s throat.

“No shit, look at what you did!” There's a loud clang when Zach’s hands, covered in thick calloused pads where his palms should be, grasp at the bars, shiny black claws curling over the rust flecked iron.

“I didn't know this would happen.” Woody snarls back, his lip curling up in such a way that he barely recognises the pull of the muscles in his face. A deep rumbling vibrates in his chest, shaking his lungs so much that it hurts, it builds to an awful crescendo, and leaves Zach whimpering in his throat.

Then a voice sounds, making Woody’s head whip around, a scent so familiar to his memories that it hurts his head engulfs the room.

“Herman.” He rasps.

Herman comes forward into the light, eyes wary. “Woody, what’d you get yourself into this time , man?”

Woody shrugs as much as his new anatomy will allow, lips curling into a terrifying parody of a smile. “It’s just an experiment.”

“You both look messed the hell up.”

Zach snarls, but Woody’s gurgling laughter overpowers it.

“This is perfect!” Woody croons. “We’re ultimate predators, and all you can comment on is our new appearances! So typical of you, Herman.”

Herman’s mouth pulls down at the corners, eyes darting to and away from Woody’s face. “What happened to you?”

“I got  _ lonely  _ Herman,” Woody snaps, scrambling to his feet with a click of his teeth that sounds far too loud in the silence of the room. “With this thing,” He taps a thick claw against the solid screen of the helmet. “You might not have noticed but I was lonely. Trapped.”

He trails his new claws down the bars, a spark of malicious enjoyment bursting in his chest as Herman winces from the noise.

“Now here I am, trapped again.”


End file.
